Whenever you call
by Bel e Muir
Summary: After seeing Sirius' death, Harry is send to Dursleys and left alone with his grief and his guilt. Never before has he considered ending his life as a way to solve his problems. So what has changed? Warning: attempted suicide, mentor!Voldemort, very mild slash, nothing too graphic. Short chapters, so I can update more often.
1. Chapter 1

**"Whenever you call", chapter 1.**

It was a quiet, sleepy night in the middle of July when Harry decided that he'd had enough. Enough of heart-wrenching guilt, of despair that's never went away, not really.

Every day he woke up feeling an iron fist of reality clenching on his stomach. He couldn't eat, he couldn't even sleep properly. To say the truth, if he wasn't so exhausted from all of the chores the Dursleys assigned him and falling asleep soon after he wouldn't get any sleep at all.

The nightmares weren't helping either.

What was surprising, his bad dreams didn't consist only of that dreadful night in the Department of Mysteries. Sometimes, he dreamed about dementors, their _coldness_ he wished he would never, ever have to feel again. And sometimes… he dreamed about his cupboard.

It was a bit of a mystery to him, how something that has happened years ago would affect him so. Okay, so he still was frightened of cramped spaces. And yes, waking up feeling the spiders walking on your skin, on your mouth and nose and ears weren't particularly pleasant. But he endured it for years and why would it matter now, anyway?

Now, when Sirius was _gone_ (and no, he couldn't say even in the privacy of his own mind that he was dead) and Harry was left alone, again, how could those stupid spider matter at all?

But they _did_ matter and Harry decided that he'd had enough.

So he took a small knife from the kitchen, hid it in the folds of his too big second-handed clothes and went upstairs, like nothing was wrong with the world, like nothing was wrong with him.

He looked at the blade for a long, long time. It was a bit frightening at first, its coldness and sharpness. But after a couple of minutes he got used to it and the knife awoke something in him. Finally, there were feelings inside of him, not only sorrow and guilt and despair, but also excitement and something akin to fear.

But he was trained to confront his fears and so he cut his veins with a bravery he did not feel anymore. There was pain and blood (lots of blood) and why did it have to hurt so much when the only thing he yearned for was to finally rest in peace?

The darkness claimed him but peace was still just a longing of his, nothing more.

* * *

The next night was a night of anger.

It appeared he was rescued by none other but Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh Harry, what have you done?", were the first words Harry heard after waking up. "How could you endanger your friends and all of the wizarding world when you know that you are their only hope?".

But Harry felt only grim, bitter anger, because he's never had any hope whatsoever and why should he feel responsible for all those people, anyway? He was a master of his own life and his own life only. If he decided to take it, why wouldn't they just let him?

But Headmaster disagreed and cast spells to ensure that Harry would be unable to try to commit suicide again. Then he told Harry to send letters to his worried friends to calm them down.

Hedwig hooted sadly, just being freed from Dursleys dubious care. The only good thing Dumbledore has done was to free Harry's owl.

Harry clenched his teeth and said nothing. Dumbledore apparently took it as a agreement and left, but not before giving Harry a parchment and a quill. "Write to them, Harry", he said before leaving. "Write to them and apologize and I'm sure they will forgive you, good friends as they are".

So Harry took the quill and started to write, but not to his friends, who never deemed it necessary to contact him after he _lost his godfather_.

_Lord Voldemort,_

_For all those years I have never understood why you tried to kill me of all people, a helpless child who couldn't be your real enemy at least for a couple of years. But now I know of the prophecy and I think I understand. There was still too much for you to fight for, too much to achieve. You couldn't let a dead threat hang upon your head. So that Halloween night you came and tried to kill me but somehow you were destroyed._

_I wish that night has never happened. I wish I've still had parents to love and cherish, not only look at their photos and not know them at all. I wish you were never destroyed, because maybe then you wouldn't hate me so much and wouldn't try to kill me each and every time we met. But because of that blasted prophecy I think you would never just let me live in peace so that's a moot point now. You'll always be after me and that's how it is._

_I tried to end it, you know? My life, useless and meaningless as it is. It would save you the trouble, so you should be glad. But unfortunately something happened… Oh screw it. Bloody Albus Dumbledore happened and now I am unable to take my life. Literally unable – Headmaster cast a spell to prevent any upcoming suicide. _

_So now I am asking you of all people for help._

_End it, please. I have no more strength left in me. Once, I thought I have someone in my life who cares but he too has been taken away from me. I'm alone now, living with my relatives who feel for me only hatred and disgust. So you see, how can I remain alive when no one truly wants me to?_

_For most I am only a weapon. The whole wizarding world relies on me when it comes to fighting you and your Death Eaters. Dumbledore didn't save me out of goodness of his heart, either. He has done it for one purpose and one purpose only: because he needs me to end this war. I live because I'm useful. And I hate every minute of it._

_I can only plead for a quick and painless death. You are merciful, I know you are. You offered my mum a way to save her life, to step aside. It wasn't your decision that she didn't. So, would you terribly mind killing me as peacefully, as possible? Please. I'm so tired of hurting. _

_My address is Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._ _I know you are the Dark Lord and probably won't have any problems getting inside but I may open the door for you, if you need it._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

It was weird, how easy for him was to write to his enemy, when he couldn't think of a word he could send to his friends.

Harry hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to send this letter? After this, there will be no going back. He enclosed his address, so if the Dark Lord decides that he would rather kidnap and torture him, Harry wouldn't be able to stop him. His wand has been taken away by his uncle and what's more, he doesn't have any energy left to fight.

There was also a danger of the letter being intercepted by the Order.

"Hedwig, it's important. I need to send a letter to Voldemort and no one else can get it. Fly high, be as quick as possible and don't let yourself be caught", he said to his loyal owl, the only thing he could think of doing to prevent anyone getting this mail. "Please find the Dark Lord, if you can. If not, come back to me. You are my only hope of getting this letter delivered".

Hedwig hooted as she flew away and Harry recognized the direction. The Burrow.

He smiled. He was lucky to have such a smart owl. To anyone observing, Hedwig is flying to his dear friend Ron when in truth she was doing the opposite.

Now the only thing he could to was to wait for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Huge thanks to my first reviewers: **karisaren**, **13AkiraKuranXIII**, **Krysania** and **ForXXXXSake**. And of course to everyone who read the first chapter.

* * *

"**Whenever you call", chapter 2.**

It was deep in the night when the door opened quietly and revealed Voldemort standing in the doorstep. Harry wasn't expecting that. Well, he couldn't say he expected anything for sure but certainly not this quiet and stealth.

The Dark Lord was clad in a black robe from head to toe, which made his pale skin stand out even more. In the dim light of a bedside lamp he seemed almost translucent. But the snake-like features and the bald head didn't seem as alien to Harry as they had when he saw Voldemort's new body for the first time.

_I guess I just got used to it_, he thought to himself idly.

Harry slowly sat on his dirty mattress, trying to shake away the sleepiness. The Dark Lord 's presence was filling him with a sense of foreboding and calmness at the same time. It sends shivers down his spine.

"Is it time?", he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Voldemort stepped into the room, quietly closing the doors behind him.

"A time for what?".

"A time for me to die", said Harry.

He didn't know why, but he was shaking. He tried to kill himself once and wasn't shivering then like he was now.

The Dark Lord sat on the chair, the only one in Harry's room, and looked at him.

"You may die soon from my hand but not in this very moment, if it is what you ask", Voldemort responded calmly. "Come, kneel before me. I'd like to have a look at you".

Harry gulped. Kneeling was a humiliation he would be glad to avoid, but he couldn't really say no to the Dark Lord, could he? After all, Harry send him a bloody _invitation_.

Surprisingly, when he finally got up and knelt awkwardly before the man, he didn't feel humiliated at all. There was something liberating in relinquishing his pride and freedom to another. He felt like a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders. The relief of it was too strong and a few traitorous tears escaped his eyes.

Cold, slender fingers touched his chin and he was gently forced to look up.

"Crying so soon? Usually, my victims cry after I start torturing them, not before", Voldemort said, sounding amused.

"I am a bit emotional, I guess, what with Sirius' death and everything", Harry explained awkwardly. "Will you do it? Torture me, I mean. 'Cause I won't be able to stop you, you know, but I would rather avoid it if that's possible…".

Voldemort interrupted his nervous babbling. "Torture means someone deserves to be punished, severely. Did you do something that requires such a punishment?", he asked.

"I defied you and fought with you every time we met", Harry said without thinking.

"Yes, but only because I attacked and threatened you first".

"I messed up all of your plans".

"They weren't good plans if a teenager was able to thwart them, anyway. Think of something else", the Dark Lord demanded.

"I… I was disrespectful to you".

"But you are showing me respect now, finally. Are you _insisting_ on being tortured?", he asked, a bit impatiently.

"No, please don't", Harry pleaded.

"Then that's settled, until you actually do something that deserve a punishment. Now, tell me: do you really want to die?".

The question came unexpectedly. The earlier questions distracted Harry and now he didn't know what to say, what to feel.

"I don't know", he answered truthfully. "I was so sure of it earlier but now… I'm confused".

"Why? What has changed?", asked the Dark Lord.

Harry looked down, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

"You came. You're supposed to hate me and not act so… considerately. I know how to cope with hatred, I've been doing it for years now. Yet I still don't know how to react to kindness", he confessed. "But if you really are as kind as you seem to be, please help me. I just want this pain to end", he pleaded, his voice broking at the end.

Harry hid his face in his hands. He felt disgusted with himself. He supposed to be brave and strong, not such a emotional wreck, dammit! Maybe the Dursleys were right, maybe he was good for nothing freak after all…

Suddenly he felt a jolt in his hands, like an electrocution, and he yelped, more from surprise than real pain. He looked up and saw the Dark Lord looking at him sternly.

"I didn't allow you to hide your face from my sight. You won't do it again. Are we understood?".

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry", Harry mumbled with a honesty that surprised him. Somehow, the Dark Lord's disapproval made him feel ashamed and he didn't like the feeling.

"Good. Now, stand up and come with me".

Harry hurriedly got up, his knees painfully protesting against such a sudden movement.

"Where are we going?", Harry asked, bewildered. When Voldemort looked at him, he added: "If you don't mind me asking, that is. And what should I call you now? I don't want to unintentionally offend you or something".

"Since I am now in position to decide whether you live or die, you may call me your lord or a master. Sir is acceptable, as well. As to your other question, we need to confront your relatives. After that is done, we will be heading to my headquarters. Now, come along", Voldemort ordered impatiently and Harry obeyed, not wanting to irritate him more.

The short trip downstairs passed in silence.


End file.
